Pranksters
by Kanadajin
Summary: A pair of pranksters go missing. Will the Atlantis crew figgure out that they're not goofing off in time to save them? Rodney gets a gf! rated for swearing and content R
1. Default Chapter

_**Warning:** I donot own Atlantis or the characters used in this story that are seen on TV. However, the characters you don't recognize are mine, so back off and get your own sandwich. _

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* * *

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The fuzziness of her own teeth disgusted Sara, but what could she do about it?

There wasn't a snowball's hope in hell that they'd let her get her toothbrush out of her bag, and they'd absolutely freak if she tried to snatch some floss. These people were far too suspicious and paranoid for their own good, she decided, and resumed attempting to scrape the offending build up of scum from her front teeth.

Blake, however, found her teeth picking more disgusting than the fuzz itself.

"Will you quit that? It's nasty," he complained.

The guard at their door looked in and rolled his eyes. These two prisoners had been nit picking and arguing the whole time they were conscious, and when only one was awake there was always a running commentary. If it were their strategy to drive him to distraction through blatant annoyingness, they would possibly succeed. Luckily, his duty shift was almost over; he pitied the next person that had to listen to them for eight hours.

"So… wanna play a game of itchiminihoi?"

"What the hell is itchy-my-hoi?"

Sara shook her head in frustration and sighed, "it's only the greatest game in the world! I learned it from a Newfie during summer training a few years back. It's great, I promise."

Black shrugged, "how do you play it?"

"Well," she paused, trying to remember the complexities of the bizarre game, "it was a combination of baseball and rock, paper scissors. It's great."

"Baseball and rock, paper scissors… interesting, but we don't have a ball."

Sara beamed, an amused gleam in her eye, "ah, but that is where it gets interesting! You see before yourself a square room, and you wonder… what part of baseball resembles a square tilted on an angle?"

Blake looked at her in utter bewilderment for a moment before slowly murmuring, "the diamond?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a genius here! Please, Henry, tell this fine gentleman what he has won!" Sara shouted in a mocking game show host voice, "a fine trip to the 'dungeon inn' hotel, where the rooms are small, dark and damp, and you have your own personal security guard! And talk about room service – all your meals are brought to your room. No charge!"

Blake couldn't help but snicker as she continued on, talking in that annoying voice about how wonderful this hotel was, the accommodations, the staff, the complimentary rats, and the amazing, grey unidentifiable mystery meat served with every meal.

It seemed like hours that she went on like that, making him laugh until his cracked ribs hurt and hit bumped and bruised head spun like a carousel. It ended due to two reasons; one, Blake started to pass out, and two, the guard that had been telling her to shut up opened the door and smacked her with the butt end of his rifle.

"I told you to shut up, smarmy little wench!"

Sara moaned from the place on the floor where she fell, a slightly trembling hand reaching up lightly to feel the agonizingly painful spot on the back of her head where he had hit her, checking for blood. The guard smirked at them, at Blake in his semi-conscious state on the cot and Sara crouched shivering on the dirty floor, then backed out and locked the metal door behind him. He laughed softly for a few minutes afterwards, relishing the silence that now prevailed.

It wasn't until his shift changed and the new guard came that Sara resumed her description of her game – this time without the game show host theme.

"Thanks," Blake whispered quietly to her later during 'lights out.'

She glanced over at him from where she sat in the dark, "what for?"

He shifted slightly, holding back a hiss of pain as his sore ribs burned at his nerves, and met her eyes, "for taking my mind off it."

Sara smiled widely yet sadly.

"No problem. I got your back, now get some sleep."

The younger man sighed and felt himself drifting into sleep, his eyes wouldn't stay open any longer. "You need to sleep too."

"Later," she yawned, but he was already asleep.

* * *

Sheppard groaned as yet another planet showed no signs of the missing members of SGA-9. Their little camping trip on another planet was really pissing him off.

"Okay, this is really getting to be a not funny issue here people! Doesn't anyone know where they were going?"

Aiden Ford looked around at the group of people around him, all shrugging or shaking their head's sadly. "Doesn't look like it, sir."

Sheppard turned to McKay, arms open wide, "why can't we just check something and see where they went?"

Rodney tilted his head to the side and snorted.

"Well, Major, maybe you hadn't noticed but we're sort of in a different galaxy and our little base here isn't run on a crapily made computer dialling program." The annoying physicist commented, "here we've got a real control centre with a real DHD and all together a much better set up than Earth."

"Ouch," Ford breathed, "that was harsh. I thought you worked on the dialling computer?"

Rodney shot an irritated smile at the young man and rolled his eyes. "Yes, I tried to correct the mess ups and all out flawed theories that the original staff had made, but they just tended to call me in whenever they really screwed up."

"Hm," Dr Weir came up from behind the good doctor, startling him, "and why was it that they all disliked you? Let me think… oh yeah! I remember hearing something about you insulting Major Carter, hitting on Major Carter, and a few other little discrepancies… mainly centring around… guess whom… Major Carter!"

The surround soldiers, engineers and scientists all had to struggle to keep a strait face – though few enough snickered or laughed out loud.

McKay's face flushed, but he had the good grace to smile too.

"Okay, okay… so I'm grumpy today. You don't have to take your annoyance of me out on an innocent."

Teyla, who was standing next to him, looked quizzically over at him.

"Whom do you mean?"

Rodney McKay grinned for a moment before clearing his throat and rubbing the slight stubble on his cheeks. "Me."

Another planet, another dead-end.

"Damn it," Sheppard growled. "Where did those goof-offs get to?"

Dr Weir smiled and patted his shoulder, "don't worry – they're going to get a good chewing out for this stunt when they get back."

Sheppard snorted, "You'll have to get in line."

* * *

"So how long do you think they're just going to leave us alone like this?"

Blake shrugged, still braiding a few loose threads from his sleeve together. "I don't know, maybe until we stop talking about dumb games, or we go insane from only talking about dumb games."

"Hmm," Sara fiddled with the makeshift bandage she had covered her torn scalp with, wincing as the sticky skin pulled away from the dried blood on the cloth. "So can you think of any other good games?"

"Well, I suppose I could explain the wonderful game of football to you."

"Um, right – I know that game," she sighed, looking at the nasty piece of cloth in disgust. The wound had started to heal now that the bleeding had stopped, finally, but the whole left side of her head still hurt like a bitch. "Actually, I should be the one explaining it to you. After all, you're the one whose country plays the sissy version."

Blake made a noise of surprise and mock horror.

"Gasp! Bite your tongue, infidel! All those who do not worship at the alter of the NFL are pagans and unworthy of the right – nay, the privilege – to claim to know the game of football." He cried out, in an insulted tone. "Thou shall burn in the fiery chasms of hell for your sacrilege. May the Gods of NFL have mercy on your soul."

Sara burst out laughing and Blake snickered loudly.

_"Shut up you annoying, annoying bastards!"_

Both captives fell silent immediately and looked fearfully towards the cell door where one very agitated and highly pissed off guard stood. The man's dark red face was the very image of fury, and the whole wild looking hair and frizzy beard didn't make him look much less intimidating, though it had been a source of amusement to Sara at first.

"He looks like my old neighbour, Harley. The first time we met him I was a kid and he scared the bejesus out of my brother and me. He was at least 6 foot eight, long red hair and a scary big red beard. Turns out he was just a big teddy bear, but we found out later that he had been friends with the Hell's Angels."

She had said that not long after they were brought here, but now she had quite a different view of this large, evil man. He was nothing like her kindly neighbour.

* * *

"Captain Rivers, they were on your crew, you have to have at least an idea of where they might have gone! You knew them better than their team," Dr Weir sat down next to the disturbed engineer. "Any idea, just something that they might have mentioned – even if it seems unimportant, it might help us find them."

Joan Rivers grimaced and tried hard to remember anything that might be relevant.

"I think once they mentioned that they'd like to go camping on that planet we found a month or two ago – Daos'ha, I think it was called."

Dr Weir beamed at the petite woman and threw an arm around her shoulder in a half hug, "thank you so much, Captain! Do you know the dialling address?"

Rivers' face fell and she looked to the base commander with big puppy eyes filled with anguish, "no, ma'am. I thought that you would."

Weir felt her own hopes fall back down a peg or two, but then smiled and told herself to buck up. "At least we know the planet name, we just have to ask around for the address. We'll have them home within a few hours and demoted before the day is over."

Rivers smiled and made a feeble attempt at a laugh, before taking her dismissal and returning to the sub-bay.

* * *

Joan Rivers is one of the characters I have in a few other Atlantis fic's I'm writing right now... so far she only has a side role in them, but I'm thinking I'll have to write a fic just for her. Joan is a brilliant Australian engineer that has been working with the SGC for a few years before the discovery of the Ancient outpost on Antarctica. That's all I can tell you for now, but watch for her later. 


	2. chapter 1

The time came, as they expected it would, and Sara was the one they took first.

For hours she was questioned, each undesirable answer given merited some new torment. At first, she refused to speak. After awhile, she told them her name, rank and service number, the whole deal. Actually, despite the pain she was somewhat causing herself by not co-operating, Sara found the whole thing very amusing. After all, who would ever have guessed that she, Sara Lee Donovan, would be interrogated in a dark, dank old dungeon like the ones she studied in history class. Oh, if only those jerks in high school could see her now… not the getting the shit beat out of her part, but the whole on a mission in an entirely different fucking galaxy. That's totally hard-core shit!

Even her old buddies who were ever coming up with insane scenarios could never have seen this happening… although now that she thought about it there once had been something in their old stories they made up about being stranded or held prisoner on a different planet by freaky aliens. Well, these people weren't really freaky aliens, but the rest of it was close enough. The idea probably had come from Alex; he'd always loved watching Star Trek, especially the one where the Enterprise or whatever was sucked up by some janitor or something and thrown right across to the other side of the galaxy.

What was the name of the ship?

A sudden painful blow to the jaw knocked her out of her train of thought and the room seemed to swim around her.

"Ohhh, fuck!"

The interrogator laughed and said something or other about her finally saying something.

Sara looked over at him in disdain after she got the room back into a regular swaying motion instead of a frenzied shaking. This man was different than the others, he didn't have blonde or red hair like the rest of them; he appeared to look more like the Mediterraneans with his darker complexion and grey eyes. Interesting.

The man sighed and pulled a chair over and sat down facing her.

His grey eyes fixated Sara, and she studied them with interest as he spoke.

"Why won't you just answer my questions? It wouldn't hurt."

The men surrounding her laughed at his joke, but his eyes remained fixed on her face and she found herself compelled to say something.

"What's your name?"

He looked startled, and the others in the room went quiet.

"Why do you want to know it," he asked softly, his voice like a sharp blade coated with danger and mystery.

Sara shrugged and broke eye contact, "I figured that since you know mine that I should at least know yours. Otherwise I'll just give you a random name that I think is cool… how does Francisco sound?"

One of the guards actually laughed, though it was silenced swiftly after a dangerous glance from the interrogator. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

"My name, Petty-Officer-2nd-Class-Donovan-Sara-Lee, is Melancton Matthias."

Sara laughed, "no shit! That's a pretty presumptuous name you've got there."

That earned her a swat across the back of her neck with some sort of billy club and a confused look from the man sitting across from her.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, that name of yours, Matthias, has a meaning where I come from."

"As it does here, what does it mean? Where are you from?"

"Well, it means 'God's gift to women' in Greek, and it's from Greece," she started, pausing for a moment before grinning at him with a bloodstained smile. "Don't think you were sneaky about sneaking in the last part of the question."

And another blow, this time followed by a few more punches to the side and a club across her tender and quite bruised shoulders, causing her to bite her lip and make a high pitched whimpering noise. Unfortunately, that only seemed to annoy the guard behind her further and he gave her another smack for it.

"That's enough for now… sorry about that miss, that one hasn't any manners."

Sara looked up at this Matthias guy with a scowl, "you should send him to finishing school. Or maybe the zoo."

"I'm not sure what either of those things are. Tell me about your culture."

"Well, a finishing school is where you send girl to learn to be mindless drones that don't do anything but cook, clean, have babies and throw dinner parties, and a zoo is where you send their annoying, sloppy husbands," she explained to him, deadpan.

What she said seemed to go over his head, but he nodded and made a motion that seemed to mean 'go on.'

"What?" Sara shook her head, "listen mister, I'm tired, sore, and really need to brush my teeth. How about this, you figure out that I won't tell you anything and let me and my friend go, and I won't tell anyone what the meaning is of your first name. Sound good?"

This time it was Matthias himself that backhanded her.

He stood up and tossed the chair aside in anger, pacing back and forth in the little cell. He waved one of the guards over to himself and had a short discussion before nodding, then leaving the room with only one small smirk shot towards her.

Her bound arms were gripped painfully and pulled up off of her chair and out off the room. They shoved her down a hallway and down a flight of stairs.

That's funny, she could have been sure that she hadn't gone up any stairs on the way to the cell… but then she realized that she wasn't going back to the same cell she had been in before. Now she wouldn't be with Blake… they'd both be alone.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," she whispered, tears beginning to form in her slightly swollen and blood shot eyes. Why on Earth did they not tell anyone where they were going before they snuck off for an impromptu camping trip? They didn't even tell their team where they were going; they just dialled up the gate and went through. Atlantis would never find them. A few people knew the address for Daos'ha, but no one knew that that's where they were planning on going.

Sara could kick herself right now, if she wasn't in so much pain. Why were they so stupid? For being among the planet's most bright and brilliant, they sure were dumb.

After what seamed like years of trudging through the maze-like dungeons, the guard holding her arm came to a short stop. Sara stumbled, and he used her momentum against her, tossing her through an open cell door and slamming it shut behind her.

"Have fun," he laughed through the small opening in the door, before sliding a latch shut and blocking out the light.

For a moment, she thought that the man was just being an ass by saying that to her, but the sound of rapid breathing and movement from the back corner of the cell made her wonder, fearfully, if he hadn't been talking to her at all.

"Well, well, well," a crackly voice leered.

Sara scuttled across the dirty floor away from the corner the voice came from.

In the dim light that filtered through cracks in the door, Sara could just barely see a pair of dark eyes that gleamed in the darkness like tiny candles.

Slowly a dirty, ragged form crept out like some kind of starved animal toward its wounded prey – her. She pushed herself back further away, wincing as her cut and bruised back touched against the rough wall, trying to get away from this predator.

It didn't take much imagination to guess what it was that this beast was hunting for, and it advanced upon her, rubbing bony, claw like hands together in some kind of sick excitement.

"I get a pretty new little bird to play with? A sweet little birdie," it crooned. "I wonder if she will sing for me while I play with her? Such a sweet thing it is to hear a nice, soft birdie sing when it's being played with… do you want to sing, pretty birdie?"

"Stay the hell away from me," she growled.

It seemed to chuckle and the dark eyes were alight with something like joy.

"Ah, so the pretty birdie is already singing! She'll sing real nice… it's playtime…"

Sara tensed andlashed outangrily as it lurched at her.

Unlike when she was in the cell with Matthias, she wasn't tied up and there weren't any guards here to protect him. Taking full advantage of her military self defence training and unarmed combat course, Sara kicked out at the thing and snarled as it dropped like a sack of potatoes to the dirt floor. It made a strangled sort of sound and scuttled around on the floor like a hound searching for a scent.

He found the scent and slowly crept back towards her.

"Bad, bad. Seems that I got a kitty this time instead of a sweet little birdie. This kitty scratches… but maybe she'll yowl when we play." The thing kept coming closer, kept talking in that perverted, gollum-esque voice.

"I warned you to stay the hell away from me, do you want me to tear your head off and shove it up your ass? Or maybe I'll just poke your eyes out and make you eat them," she threatened. "I swear I'll go completely Hannibal Lector on your ass!"

The thing actually had the audacity, and lack of intelligence, to giggle madly and shout at her, "I'll make this kitty purr!"

It didn't go overly well for it, unless its plan was to get a roundhouse to it's head and a swift kick in the groin. It dropped with a mad shriek, gripping its crotch and whimpering in agony.

"Bad kitty, bad kitty…" it muttered over and over, until she silenced it with a kick to the head.

If it were dead, she would shed no tears since she probably had done the twisted thing a favour, but her instincts had her check for a pulse first. It was still alive, so she propped it up in its corner, binding its hands and feet with some strips of clothe that were lying on the floor.

Moving back to her corner after double-checking her knots, Sara leaned lightly against the wall. It was rough, but it was cold too, and it numbed the pain.

She was so tired… but she just couldn't sleep. What if that thing got loose and attacked her again as she slept… the thought slipped through her mind as her body caught up with her and she drifted off into a deep slumber.  
Voyager... that was the name of the ship.


	3. chapter 2

Sheppard groaned as yet another negative report filtered in from the off world teams.

Where could those goof-offs have gotten to?  
Sometimes being intelligent didn't make you smart – that was the case with these two.

Brilliant in their own respective fields, Blake Forrester and Sara Donovan had to be the two most juvenile, troublesome, and maddeningly lucky people he had ever met. And when two people like that get together… the major shuddered remembering the countless pranks and schemes the two friends had pulled off over the past year. The simple ones, like loosening the lid on the salt, sticking those springy snakes inside peanut butter jars, and the ever so annoying slippery patch on the east down ramp into jumper bay, were the ones that got them the cheap laughs. Then there were those horribly complicated plots involving holograms and hidden microphones… Sheppard had fallen prey to them far too many times to enjoy the laughter awarded to their efforts.

Now, they'd been missing for nigh on two weeks and the immense ancient city seemed that much lifeless and empty. Where could they be?  
After the first week, the searches became less for them off on a planet laughing at their clever joke and more for any sign of were their bodies might be.

Reaching up, the exhausted man crossed off yet another address from the list written on the white-board. That made almost 46 planets without a trace of the two missing Atlantians.

* * *

Elizabeth watched as John made a line through another address.

His shoulders, so square and proud, were slumped and his entire manner was showing his exhaustion… and despair. Not that she could blame him. After the first week with no leads, she had given up hope of finding them alive but instead discreetly began writing up the papers that would be sent to their families should communication with Earth ever be established. Of course, there was always the possibility that they were just fine and trying to get back to Atlantis – there might be a problem with the DHD on whatever world they were on. They were bright kids, the both of them, and it wouldn't be too surprising if that's what was happening… but something nagged at her heart and she knew that she was just fooling herself. Something was wrong – something bad had happened and the two youngest members of the expedition were in trouble… or worse.

* * *

The science lab was disturbingly quiet.

The absence of laughter or those snickers of anticipation were getting on the nerves of the chief scientist more than the actual noises, jokes, and occasional bucket of cold water dumped on his head had been.

Who would have known that Rodney would have grown so fond of the menace in their midst that he sat alone in his lab in the dead of night silently grieving, holding a water pistol that had been hastily discarded by Forrester as a soaking wet and distempered Kavanagh. He chuckled at the memory, gently stroking the cheap plastic toy with his thumb. It had been one of his favourite pranks that they pulled, despite its simplicity.

And it wasn't as if he only missed the silent though mischievous lab assistant, Donovan was one of his own countrymen. A comrade. And not just a fellow Canuck, but also a fellow prairie kid.

They'd had a connection, he and Donovan, which was partly a support system – two Canadians in a dominantly American company – and a natural competition, an Albertan cowboy versus a Skatchie roughrider.

Now he'd lost that… and there was a profound sense of loss.

A passing marine happened to look into the dimly lit lab on her way past and saw the lone scientist leaning heavily against the table in front of him, white covered shoulders trembling slightly. She paused, unsure if it was her place to comfort the obviously distressed man, but decided that he would most likely appreciate being left in privacy.

She walked silently past the lab, making her way to her blocks where she told her bunkmate what she had seen. They both found it heartbreaking, and went to sleep that night with tears in their eyes and hearts aching for the two missing people they didn't know.

* * *

Aiden Ford, on the other hand, refused to hide the tears running down his face the next day when he picked up his bag that was supplied with a first aid kit, emergency rations, and two discreetly packed body bags.

He hadn't known Sara or Blake very well. Sure, they'd hung around a few times in the room that had been unofficially designated the lounge for those under 30, but he'd never gone out of his way to say 'hi' or ask how their day was going.

Not that the young soldier was going to convince himself into thinking that he wasn't the only one with such thoughts. Sure, Weir, Sheppard and the others had all known them on some level, mainly as subjects of pranks or discipline figures for when they were caught at it. But none were really that great of friends with them.

Now he was sorry he hadn't gone over and taken part in some of their pranks.

* * *

Carson Beckett closed the manila-tag folder containing the medical histories of the two missing hooligans. Not too many items – a few headache complaints from Donovan, a few broken bones on Forrester.

He tried to keep distant from patients, but when you're stranded in an entirely different galaxy together you'd think that you'd get to know the people around you better. But truth be told, the doctor was just realizing how little he knew about many of the people around him. Not just with these two, but with others. He just noticed at least eight people working in the med lab that he honestly couldn't remember having noticed before.  
Each person knew him, said hello and inquired as to his health, as they most likely had every single day since they had all walked through that gate. He'd never noticed them; he didn't notice the people that didn't demand his attention, and they just flew merrily under his radar. Until they got sick, injured, or died.

That seemed to get his attention.

The Scotsman grunted in self-disgust and pushed the two small files away.

He decided that he wouldn't leave his office again today until he had read through the med files of each and every soul on Atlantis, and that he wouldn't rest until he had talked to each and every single one of them.


	4. chapter 3

They came for Blake not long after they took away Sara.

If these people had been easy on Sara, the gloves came off when the muscular Atlantian was dragged in. The room was large and airy, unlike all the other rooms Blake had noticed on his way past. And there were chains hanging from the ceiling.

'This can't be good,' he though, eyeing up the manacles that he was being dragged towards. The guards forced the burly young man's arms up above his head and clapped the shackles around his wrists, and then someone on the far side of the room hoisted on a chain and, to Blake's dismay, he saw raised about two inches off the floor.

The guards around him used their clubs when he struggled and cursed, and his cracked ribs flared in tremendous pain. One blow to the chest and he'd be crying like a baby, he knew, if not dead. Luckily, the guards were stopped before they managed to cause too much damage.

"Vell," a seedy voice sneered from the entrance way. Blake looked up to see the goofiest looking person he had ever seen in his life. "I zee u haf made acquaintances wit my guards, but ve ave yet to learn your name."

Blake watched in disbelief as the man twirled his cheesy moustache with a gloved finger and walked towards him with what could be described as an effeminate prance. It was all he could do to keep from laughing when he saw the riding crop the man had tucked beneath his elbow. It was too amusing to be true.

"You've _got_ to be joshing me," he whispered with a quaver in his voice caused not by fear, as the man assumed, but by trying to keep from giggling like a little girl.

The cheesy man smacked the crop against his hand and waved it threateningly at Blake.

"Eef u do not co-operat, vu vill be punished," the man leered, motioning to one of the guards. The guard punched him just above his kidneys, producing a low groan from the suspend prisoner as he began to swing back and forth slightly.

"Zo, vaht vill eet be? Your name, or maybe ve vill remove one of zoes eyes of yours?"

Blake shuddered – what good was a blind scientist?

"Fine," telling them his name wouldn't hurt, he decided. "Warrant Officer 2nd Class Forrester, John Blake. 3430770."

The cheesy man smiled cheesily, "vell, I am Senoh Frohog."

This time Blake couldn't help but laugh, even though it earned him a punch to the lower back that made his feet go quite disconcertingly numb.

"Vaht ees zo funny, meester varrarnt-ovizer-zecond-claz-vorrestor-john-blak?"

"You're name is Senor Frog? That's fucking hilarious," he laughed.

Frohog stormed over, with that girly prance of his, and swatted the laughing man on the face. It didn't hurt, which made Blake laugh even harder since the man had swung with his full strength. Despite the pain he was causing himself, from the occasional jabs and punches from the guards and his cracked ribs, he laughed for the rest of the short-lived interview.

Finally Senor Frog walked out in a fit of fury and left the guards to beat the shit out of the sniggering prisoner.

When they were done, they left him hanging there, blood dripping down from various cuts and a broken nose to form a puddle on the floor beneath him.

The strain on his wrists was killing him, but he didn't have much of a choice as he had passed out halfway through the brutal beating.

There was still a slight grin on his face.

* * *

When Sara awoke, she was still in the dark cell she had fallen asleep in the night before, and the thing in the corner was still tied up.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

Slowly she stood, careful not to move too quickly, and stretched her cramped legs and arms. A hiss of pain escaped her clenched teeth as she realized that she had dislocated her arm sometime in the last boxing match with the thing. Leaning against the wall and throwing her weight at it like her brother had taught her, Sara tried to relocate the slipped joint, but it hurt too much to do herself. Finally she gave up and let herself slide down the wall to the floor.

For a long time she sat there in the quiet, every now and then hearing footsteps, the clinking of chains or the sound of a door scraping across the floor.

_'You know what… I could really go for some of my mom's specialty chicken wings right now, the ones with that yummy sauce that goes really great on rice. And those bbq meatballs she makes,'_ Sara thought idly. _'Or those smoked pork chops Uncle Ron made for the family bbq that one year. Those were so good._

_'I remember that was the same year that Shaun and Mayfe got engaged. I wonder what they named their latest baby. Probably something cute and Hispanic, like Juliana and Pepito… those were the sweetest babies I've ever seen. And little Neil – he was such a sweetie! Good God – he's got to be starting elementary school by now. If I ever get back home none of them will recognize me. Meagan, Erin, Thomas, Neil, Ruby, Holli-Marie, Juliana, Pepito, Wiley, Quentin… none of them will remember their cousin Sara. Oh God, oh God I want to go home! What if Brett and Michyla have had a baby – I'd be an auntie! But what good is an auntie that's in a different galaxy getting raped by a freak?'_

Tears raced down her face, but she made not a sound.

_'I always said that I wasn't going to have kids, I was going to be the world's best auntie. I even bugged Michyla that I wanted to have at least 12 nieces and nephews. Hell – in that fake eulogy we had to write for ourselves I said that I had lots of nieces and nephews… of course, I also said that I would be an officer by now, have an iguana named Ralph and be the first person on Mars. But then again… I was the first Canadian on Atlantis. That's got to count for something, eh?'_

Lying her head back against the rough wall, she drifted off to sleep again thinking about what her life plans had been ten years ago, five years ago, hell, even a year ago. Never was 'going to another galaxy' on her list, even if Mars was…

* * *

They'd had a clue to where Forrester and Donovan were; Rivers had mentioned Daos'ha as a possible hit, so they had searched there. Nothing.

It was suggested that the twosome might have dialed an incorrect address, but the reaction wasn't one of hope.

"Rodney, how many variations will we have to go through until we find the one they accidentally dialed? For all we know," Weir sighed, "they might have gotten scooped up by the wraith! Sometime we'll have to accept that we're _not going to find them_."

"That's it, huh," Rodney couldn't believe what Weir was saying. He looked at the other faces sitting around the table and saw defeat on all their faces, even Sheppard had given up on finding them alive. "You're just giving up on them?"

Elizabeth bit her lip and closed her eyes tightly.

While it was a situation none wanted to end this way, she had thought that they would all agree that it was hopeless. Nearly two months strait of searching had brought no new leads, and not one single clue as to where they were had been found.

She'd never thought that Rodney would be the one to make such a strong protest to ending the search. It was something she would have expected from Sheppard.

"Rodney, they've been gone for two months," she said softly, wishing someone else would pipe up and help her out. "It isn't logical too keep wasting resources and power on searching – we need to get back to normal operation. The Wraith are still coming and we need to get back on track."

Finally someone backed her up, and surprisingly enough it was Shepard.

"They wouldn't want us to waste time on finding them when we could be fighting the wraith or looking for a ZPM – they'd want us to keep going, not to jeopardize everything for them."

The agitated and near to tears physicist felt like throwing that smug bastard Sheppard the bird. How could he know what they'd want them to do? How could any of them, including himself, make claim to knowing what they'd want when none of them had ever taken the time of day to do more that laugh at their pranks. He couldn't stand it anymore.

"So they're a waste of time? It's okay to loose people if we don't know what happened to them... just leave them for dead? They just some background characters in a sci-fi show that no one remembers after they die?"

Silence. Guilty silence.

McKay made a disgusted sound, stood up, and stormed out of the room.

If the door hadn't been the annoying sliding kind he would have slammed it shut behind him as he hurried out of the briefing room.

It was silent for a long time after Rodney left until Weir had had enough, stood, and nodded to the group around her.

"Call off the search – dismissed."


	5. chapter 4

Blake really didn't expect anyone to come for them.

After all, not only were they just not that important in the grand scheme of things, but they were major pains in the ass. Sheppard was most likely celebrating that his two main source of headaches were out of his hair, and Beckett was probably thanking whatever God he prayed to that he wouldn't have to treat the casualties of their pranks anymore.

Kavanagh, may he burn in some type of hell, was most likely doing some type of ass-holeish happy dance in the lab now… McKay would be bitching at him, most likely.

McKay, he suddenly thought of the man, he wasn't a bad guy. Got a little annoying and often was a chicken-shit, but on the whole, he was a decent guy. He probably wouldn't be rejoicing at their loss… Blake felt quite sure that he wouldn't.

Of all of his superiors, McKay was the only one he really had seemed to connect to. Even Lt Ford, who was the same age as Forrester, hadn't really been friendly with either of them. That's what happens, though, when some people are just considered more important than others. Some people, he could understand, were just expendable.

'Fuck that,' he thought angrily, 'I've done plenty! I'm not just some anonymous scientist in the background – not just some little soldier in combats and shiny boots. I have a girl waiting for me at home; I have my folks to look after, they're getting old and can't handle the farm all by themselves. And what about Sara?'

Shut up, he told himself. This kind of thinking wouldn't get him anywhere.

But _God _his arms hurt and the ribs he had once thought merely cracked were now definitely broken. His breath was strained, painful, and bubbled in his chest.

Something was broken on the inside, he knew, tasting blood in his mouth. It wasn't from his nosebleed. That had dried up a few hours ago and this stuff tasted fresh.

Calming himself, Blake took a deep breath – held it for a moment – then exhaled slowly.

It hurt like a bitch and a new wave of bloody mist drifted out of his mouth.

He cursed as he could hear his insides moving and gurgling.

"Son of a bitch," he breathed, wincing at the pain caused. It was a punctured lung, definitely, and being hung like this wasn't helping the inability to breath to much. If he didn't get let down soon he'd smother standing up.

This was, on the whole, a rather unpleasant prospect.

"Hey," he called out, "Frog?"

He couldn't see behind him but he hoped that the guard that he had heard moving behind him earlier was paying attention.

"Frog?"

He was feeling very light headed, he thought that it was just him when the room started to spin, but then realized that the room _was_ moving. The guard behind him had come silently up and twisted the chain he hung from, rotating the agonized prisoner on the spot.

"What?"

Blake blinked and looked at the big red headed guard and smiled awkwardly.

"I'll talk to….senor frog….now."

The big man smiled back and shoved the panting prisoner lightly, setting him spinning.

* * *

**Wow – just realized that I need to catch a bus. Aw hell, I can catch the next one…. But I really should be studying my psychology. If I get a bad grade its all your fault, okay?**

* * *

Life in Atlantis had gone back to what was as normal as a city in a different galaxy could be for nearly everyone. Rodney was still mad.

There had been a nice little ceremony on the mainland – two headstones were laid down with nothing below them. The words written on their headstones 'lost but not forgotten' were the furthest thing from the truth Rodney could think of.

Already the small bouquets of flowers and candles laid by the entrance to the junior ranks mess had been cleared away, and the personal effects of Forrester and Donovan had been cleared out of their blocks and placed in storage to be sent to their families if there ever were a chance. All traces of their deeds, of their very existence, were erased from visibility. Rodney hated it.

Small condolence were the empty graves, the black italicized names written on a small plaque in the control tower, and the two upturned shot glasses in the junior's mess that sat in front of a small Polaroid picture of the two.

The sight of the small memorial had nearly caused McKay to burst into tears. The picture was one he remembered – they had just pulled off their greatest prank ever, their faces were glowing, and they stood in ceremonial dress outside Weir's office for official reprimand. They were absolutely exhilaration itself in that picture.

He was torn between laughing at the memory and sobbing at the knowledge that they had been abandoned by their comrades. For who knows, they could still be alive waiting for someone to come find them, or they could be on a Wraith hive ship having their lives sucked out of them.

In his grief, Rodney pocketed the picture and took it to his office where he thumbtacked it to his bulletin board right next to his head.

In some odd twist of fate, the same marine passed by his office again. She saw him sitting there, gazing at something on his wall with the most heart wrenching look of loss on his face. This time, she couldn't help but walk over and comfort him. He gratefully accepted her embrace and they sat there for most of the night in each others arms.

When they drew apart some time later Rodney attempted to make a small joke and apologize for the tear-soaked patch on her shoulder, but she didn't care.

The kiss was long, tender, and oh so meaningful.

* * *

Awww... I couldn't help it -I just had to stick something in for Rodney... he's such a bastard - he needs someone to have a nice little fling with.

* * *

Sara woke up screaming as the thing tried to rip her shirt away from her body.

In her sleep it had tied her ankles and wrists together and now was trying to get over that obvious obstacle of undressing the struggling Atlantian. The creature was heavier than she was and had her pinned against the wall, but didn't seem to have enough hands to both hold her down and get her pants off.

"Pretty kitty, pretty kitty," it leered, "can't use her claws! Purr pretty kitty!"

Its breath was repulsive and was positively the most disgusting thing she had ever smelt. When it gloated at tying her up, Sara was tempted to bite it but reconsidered – it would leave an even worse taste in her mouth than the fuzz on her teeth.

Struggling wildly, she managed to use momentum to toss it off of her and she found her way to her knees, but was unable to stand. That was all the thing needed and pushed her backwards into the corner, forcing her hands behind her head to keep from smashing against the stone wall. It smiled terribly showing yellow, rotted out teeth that were pointed like a canine's.

"Kitty, kitty… kitty must be ready to play after having so much sleep. Kitty needs to play. Is kitty playful?"

Sara gritted her teeth and tried to squirm away from its grasp, but its hands were like suction cups around her throat. One filthy paw moved away from her neck and trailed down to her chest, using the talon-like fingernails to tear the fabric away from her.

"I swear I will fucking kill you, you son of a bitch," she growled at the thing, but it only made freakish whimpering noises and ignored her threats.

"Pretty kitty, pretty, pretty, pretty… kitty's going to play now."

Before she blocked off her senses completely, Sara glanced over to the door where the little panel had been opened and now a pair of cold eyes looked in and the sound of cruel laughter drifted to her ears.

* * *

Blake was let down from the chains after Senor Frog had all the information he wanted. A doctor or someone that knew a bit about medicine had come and gone, setting his ribs and fixing a few various things that were broken. However, the pain in his lungs was sharp and he continued to cough up blood. He would bleed internally to death if he didn't get real medical attention, and Senor Frog had made that known that he would receive that treatment if he gave up more information.

"Ahh, I haf heard zat zee bleeding vrom eenzide es za most painful vay to die."

Blake would have cried if it didn't hurt so much.

"I can't tell you that," he sobbed, gasping for air. "I can't tell you."

Another man, this one darker and more Greek-looking stepped forwards and leaned against the heavily breathing prisoner's chest with callous deliberacy.

"You can't or you won't? Maybe this whole physical pain isn't enough for you," he sneered. "You seemed to have forgotten that we have one of your friends in our care."

A cold shiver went down Blake's spine as the man put an unnerving emphasis on the last word. He looked at the dark man, hate in his eyes.

"You wouldn't dare hurt her!"

They both smiled widely.

"Ah, but I vill introduce u to my esteemed colleague, meester Matthias. Your leetle girl friend's personal interrogator."

Blake looked in rage at the second man.

"Ah yes, young miss petty-officer-second-class-Donovan-Sara-Lee… or do you just call her bitch," Matthias asked leaning on Blake's chest.

"Her name is Donovan," Forrester ground out, pain flaring in his ribs and blood trickling into his mouth.

Matthias smiled and leaned in closer to Blake's prone form, "tell me, mister Forrester. When you fuck her does she always scream like a banshee?"

The blood drained from his face and he felt sick to the stomach. "You fucking bastard!"

"No, it wasn't me," Matthias grinned, moving away from the enraged man. "It was one of the prisoners – he's been locked up for quite a long time and, I'll tell you, did he ever put on a show."

Blake's body went tense and he had to force himself to breath.

"But how rude of me, I should have extended the invitation to yourself," Matthias faked smacking his forehead. "How rude… next time I guess I'll have to make sure you're there. Frohog – lets arrange a session, how about now?"

Frog smiled and rubbed his bony fingers together, nodding freverantly.

Blake felt sick as he was pulled up and dragged away down into the dungeons where already he could hear muffled screams and curses drifting up to torment him.

The guards laughed as he sobbed and Sara screamed.

When it was done, when they had made him watch, they asked him if he would tell them everything they wanted to hear.

Blake hesitated, but when yet another scream reached him and the laughter of guards overpowered him he sobbed and nodded yes.

* * *

God I'm horrible! I think I should get my head looked at... either about the perv or the senor frog. spooky. 


	6. Chapter 5

Note: Sorry its taken so long to update. I also got rid of that shatty chapter I'd written earlier... oh, and as a warning, theres some bad language in this chapter.

* * *

Blake sat sobbing in his cell.  
It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe.  
He wished he could just die.  
He knew that he wasn't that far from death, so he sat and waited.  
Sobbing.

* * *

Sara sat huddled in a corner of her cell.  
The guards had come in and killed the thing, dragging its corpse out behind them... its wide eyes leered at her even in death. She could still hear the echoes of its words.  
She wanted to die.

* * *

It'd been seven months since Donovan and Forrester disappeared. So much had happened since then, contact was re-established with Earth being the greatest change... their personal items had been shipped back on the Daedalus to be returned to their families.

Elizabeth, John, and the others had given up on finding them again; even if they were alive out there, somewhere, they might've heard the rumour that Atlantis was destroyed and didn't think there was any point in trying to return.

"McKay," a nasal voice squeaked from behind, "You should go get some sleep."

Rodney frowned as he recognized the voice to be that of a person who normally showed absolutely no compassion for other humans. "Kavanaugh, piss off."

"You know what, McKay," the man sat backwards in the swivel chair next to Rodney and leaned towards him with a strange look on his face, "I think you are a stubborn, arrogant, prissy bastard. I think you have your head shoved so far up your own ass you could draw a map of your colon for Beckett. I also think you are a genius, and I respect you for that. What I don't respect you for is the total disregard you have for others. Not just me, but for every other red shirt on this city!"

"What... did you just say you respected me? Did you call me arrogant and prissy? You're the slimy little..."

"See! This is why I don't completely respect you. You can sure as hell point out everyone else's flaws but fail to notice what a giant hypocrite you are!"

"Aww, is little Kavanaugh mad because he got told off by Dr Weir?"

"You stupid SOB! Can't you understand that someone has to be the devil's advocate? For there to be a hero there has to be a villain. For there to be white there has to be black... but at the end of the day the actors take off their masks and can live civilized for awhile. But not you - not here! Why?"

Oh hell, Rodney thought to himself as Kavanaugh went on, he's on drugs.

"What are you talking about? You aren't making sense... and I do care about other people!"

"Oh, do you now," the long haired scientist raved, "name two people, other than those idiots you've made your little wonder team up of, that you have lost sleep over?"

"My sister, Jeanie."

"She's not here, she doesn't count."

"Corporal Ainsworth, Captain Rivers, Lieutenant Orr, Blake and Sara..."

The room fell quiet. Silent. Almost tranquil.  
Time moved sluggishly as the two humans just sat breathing.  
Not moving, not speaking, not thinking of anything but their two missing comrades.

"It used to kill me," Kavanaugh broke the silence, "to have to be the asshole. To be the jerk who ruined their plans. It was defence for me, because it hurt when I was the butt of their jokes. But I also revelled in the brief moments I shared the spotlight with them - it was only when I was a target or spoke out against someone that anyone else cared to notice me."

Rodney's eyes opened, but they were aimed at the floor... this was an uncomfortable moment for both of them, their gender roles told them that this wasn't right. Homophobia trickled in under layers of social conditioning, playing like the melody of a cowboy movie.

"Its easy to be the hero, its not so easy to be the villain. I know - I used to play that role all the time. Hell, I still do every now and then... whenever there was a problem at the SGC, uh oh, here comes that ass hole McKay. Quick, someone find a lemon!"

Now it was Kavanaugh's turn to look at the floor.

"Those kids, they were more than just some grunts to get shot at or be blown up in experiments gone wrong... they were... well... you know what I'm trying to say you son of a bitch."

Coughing, Rodney stood up and grabbed the water pistol sitting on the corner of his desk. "Piss off you egotistical bastard," he grunted at the other scientist, tossing the thing at him, not roughly though.

Kavanaugh caught it, eyes warming for a second as he gazed at the plastic toy in his hands before standing too and almost carelessly shoving it a pocket of his lab coat. "Up yours, cum wad."

* * *

Sara slowly stood up, turning to look around the new cell she'd been brought to... wary.  
Her eyes roved across the grey stone walls, the brown moss clinging to the south facing rocks, the leaky ceiling and the puddle of dingy water lying static in the far corner. The smell reminded her of her brother's hockey equipment and silage. Unwashed bodies and rot.

A lump lay on a pallet near the puddle of water.

A new tormenter?

Cautiously she approached the pallet, sticking her foot out to poke the human shaped lump.

It groaned as her foot met something wet and squishy.

Quickly she pulled her foot back and receded a few steps... the thing didn't move again.  
Again she stepped towards it, this time poking it harder.  
A moan permeated from the lump and was received with a swift kick.

It fell silent, but she kept kicking.

She kicked and kicked and kicked it until it'd fallen off the pallet and into the puddle.

Smiling as though victorious, Sara took over the things spot on the pallet and sat grinning like the Cheshire cat. THIS bastard wouldn't be touching her.


End file.
